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Stiles put his hand on Derek’s shoulder to still the werewolf. “Will you quit fucking moving?”
“It hurts,” Derek said. He crossed his arms across his chest, but that made his muscles pull the wrong way and aggravate his injuries further, so he carefully uncrossed them again.
“It hurts,” Stiles mimicked, digging his fingers harder into Derek’s shoulder until the man finally stopped moving. “Really? You got pushed through a window, fell two stories and now have glass embedded in your back and side, and it hurts? Massive shock right there.”
“Shut up.” Derek winced as Stiles pulled a piece of glass out of his back.
“It’s going to keep hurting unless you sit still,” Stiles continued as if Derek hadn’t spoken. “Unless you sit still and let me get all of this glass out so you can heal.”
“Isn’t there someone else who could do this?” Derek asked.
“All the wolves are still out hunting for the guy who pushed you through aforementioned window. Lydia is still out of commission thanks to her own injuries. That left me, Allison and Kira, and since I’m not a master of any weapons, I drew the short straw.”
Stiles pulled out another glass shard out of Derek’s back and put it in the growing pile in the garbage bag by his feet.
Stiles was sitting on the couch, while Derek sat on the coffee table in front of him so Stiles could reach the glass pieces easier. Stiles was facing Derek at a diagonal angle, and he could the way Derek’s face twisted every time he freed another piece of glass.
“I’m being as gentle as I can,” Stiles said, tone softer and kinder than it had been earlier.
“I know,” Derek said. Blood trickled down his back and he felt Stiles wipe it away with a wet cloth. “It’s just my skin is healing around the glass, so every time you take a piece out you’re ripping open the wound again.”
“Sorry,” Stiles said quietly.
The two of them were silent for a while; the only noises were the sharp intakes of breath Derek took when Stiles pulled out a particularly deep piece.
“I’d never take the bite,” Stiles began, almost as if he was talking to himself. “But sometimes I think having the ability to take other people’s pain would be nice. To help them, you know?”
Derek hummed in agreement and nodded. “It’s nice.”
“What’s it like?” Stiles asked. “What does it feel like to take the pain from someone else?” He chewed his lip as he thought about the times Scott had taken his pain.
“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Derek said. “Not really anyway. It’s kind of like pins and needles for a split second, then it’s gone. What you really feel is the relief you give someone, the happiness that comes from them when the pain disappears for a moment, especially if they’re not expecting it.”
Stiles shifted on the couch. He put his left hand on Derek’s stomach so he could hold the skin taut as he removed glass from the werewolf’s side.
“It’s weird when you’re the one someone’s taking pain from,” Stiles admitted. “Obviously it feels good, but it’s strange for the pain to just be…gone. Like, even with pain killers there’s residual pain, or other side effects that remind you that you’re actually in pain.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Derek said.
“Oh. Right. Obviously you’ve never had to rely on pain killers so-”
“No,” Derek interrupted with a shake of his head. “I mean I don’t know what it’s like to have someone else take you pain.”
Stiles’ hand stilled and he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean you don’t know what it’s like? You grew up surrounded by werewolves and none of them ever took your pain?”
Derek shrugged even though it caused him pain. “I guess someone could have done it when I was really young, but if they did I don’t remember. We don’t get sick, and we heal almost instantly from most injuries. There was never a reason for someone to take it from me.”
Stiles went back to pulling the shards of glass from Derek’s body. He pressed his fingers a little harder against Derek’s stomach and wondered what it would be like to take the pain he was feeling, even just a little bit of it. He imagined his veins turning black as the pain worked its way through Derek and into him. He stared at his fingers as though he could make it happen through sheer force of will.
“Stiles,” Derek said, snapping Stiles back into reality.
“Sorry,” Stiles said. “I’m almost done.”
Stiles removed a few smaller pieces until all that was left was a large jagged piece jutting out of Derek’s side. The piece had sliced open Derek’s arm multiple times, and was responsible for most of the blood that was drying on Derek’s skin.
“This will definitely hurt,” Stiles said. The skin had healed around the glass almost completely, and Stiles had to wiggled it around and cut open Derek’s skin again before he had any hope of getting it out.
Stiles got a good grip on the slippery glass and pulled. However the glass didn’t come free as soon as Stiles expected. The piece tapered off into a point, and Stiles kept pulling until it was totally free.
Stiles held up the piece in amazement. It had to have been lodged between two of Derek’s ribs. “How did that not puncture your lung? Or your heart?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said. He didn’t mention that he was breathing a lot easier now that the glass was out.
Stiles threw the glass in the bag with the rest, then ran his fingers over the healing wound on Derek’s side.
“I’m going to clean this blood off to make sure I didn’t miss any, okay?” There was a chance Derek’s skin had healed over some of the smaller pieces of glass.
“Okay,” Derek nodded. It didn’t feel like there was any glass left in him, but all of his muscles still ached from overuse, so it was hard to tell.
There was a bucket of water on the floor next to Stiles, and Stiles soaked the cloth he had.
Derek shivered as the water ran down his back. It had started as warm water, but had cooled as Stiles had been taking the glass out of Derek.
The water in the bucket and the cloth were stained red by the time Stiles finished cleaning off Derek’s back.
Derek’s skin was as flawless as ever, there was no indication that he had fallen two stories. The only mark on his skin was the tattoo.
“Who burned the tattoo for you?” Stiles asked.
“What?” Derek twisted his head around, even though he still couldn’t see the tattoo between his shoulder blades. “Laura did.”
“She didn’t take your pain then?”
Derek shook his head. He didn’t give an explanation as to why Laura didn’t take his pain. He looked away from Stiles.
Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. He traced the black ink on Derek’s back with his finger. Derek didn’t move away even though there was no reason for him to still be sitting there letting Stiles touch him.
“You don’t need to be a werewolf to help someone who’s in pain,” Derek said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
“Really?” Stiles was tracing random patterns on Derek’s back now, his other hand as resting on Derek’s side.
Derek gave a small nod. “Of course.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m picking glass out of you,” Stiles said.
“You think there’s going to be a next time?” Derek asked, he turned his head to look at Stiles. “I don’t plan on making a habit of falling out of windows.”
Stiles gave Derek and pointed look and the werewolf conceded.
“Okay,” Derek said. “There’s a chance it might happen again. You’d really offer to pick glass out of me again?”
“It’s not something I enjoyed, but yeah,” Stiles nodded. “I’ll always help when you’re in pain if I can.”
Derek really didn’t know what to say to that, so he just mumbled a quiet “Thanks.”
“You should come sit on the couch,” Stiles said, suddenly changing the subject. “It’ll be more comfortable.”
Stiles moved his hands away from Derek so Derek could stand up.
Derek sat on the couch, and Stiles moved to stand, but Derek caught Stiles by the arm. He pulled the human back down onto the couch. Stiles didn’t fight and sat next to Derek.
Derek didn’t take his hand off of Stiles’ arm, but he did loosen his grip a little. Stiles put his free hand on Derek’s forearm and started to trace random patterns again.